This whole thing is like some sad movie. I swear it’s her way of telling me to slow down.

Yes, her. The sataness herself. The ‘love of my life.’

I pitied her, I really did. It was one thing to think that you weren’t worth it, but an entirely other thing to pretend that you didn’t think you were worth it. Fishing for compliments, some might say.

But other than her lack of self-esteem, I didn’t actually know what the fuck she wanted. I knew what I wanted, but it was hardly appropriate…

God no, not that; I didn’t want to be around her any more than I had to be. No, what I wanted was to get rid of her once and for all…let her be someone else’s problem for a change. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her cling to me for the next two years.

“Baby!” she squealed, and I tried to outrun her. Pathetic, really, seeing as how there’s no place to hide in these fucking hallways, and she’s second best on the track team.

Damn, how I hated school because of moments like these.

My arm swung around her shoulder reluctantly, my movements rigid and stiff – anything but inviting – but she leaned in all the same.

I looked away, thinking about how I got into this whole mess in the first place. How was I supposed to know that asking her out on a dare would make her hang onto me like some rabid –

Somehow, her tongue had found its way inside my mouth. Not exactly surprising, but it pained me to feel the desperation leaking out of her. It tasted almost as though she knew what was coming.

Almost.

“My parents aren’t going to be home Saturday,” she told me breathlessly as she pulled away.

Was this supposed to be appealing to me?

“Hmm?”

“Yeah, they’re, they- they’re out of town. Do you want to stop by?”

Did I want to stop by? Absolutely not. The idea of being alone with that girl in a house made me cringe. Alarmingly, I couldn’t think of a single excuse. My brain screamed at me. Something; anything.

“Sweetheart…” Oh, brilliant start. Why couldn’t I think of anything to say?

“Yes?” her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at me; I had a good six inches on her 5’5” stature.

My hand played with her hair absentmindedly, curling it around and twisting it behind her ear.

“I think we should see other people.”

I supposed I deserved the bright red handprint she etched into my face.